Catching Quinn
by Trekkie Lizard
Summary: An outlaw comes to Silver City and takes a good friend right from under their noses.


Federal Marshall Stone propped his feet upon his desk, his dirty boots wrinkling some papers. He leaned back in his chair, and sighed. There had been no trouble in Silver City of late, and this was bothering him. No deaths, no thieves, nothing. There was literally nothing for him to do. He took to looking at wanted pictures that where brought in from other towns. The top of the stack was the best place to start. Picking up the one on the top, Jared squinted at it.  
  
"Michael Stephen Quinn", he read the name aloud without realizing it.  
  
"Who?" a curious voice piped up from the door, which had just opened.  
  
Detective Finch was briskly walking towards the desk. He had been out of work for awhile, nothing to do. He was obviously bored and well rested. He looked cleaner than he ought; he needed desperately to get out. He made his final approach and leaned on the desk.  
  
"Mike Quinn, an outlaw from Reno. He's not been seen for awhile, and it's suspected that he could have moved to another town", Jared sighed and shoved the paper at Larimer.  
  
The younger man looked over it, his face suddenly bright.  
  
"Maybe he's planning something big, maybe he's gonna stir up trouble here..." Larimer immediately started speculating.  
  
"Maybe you should hold your tongue, Detective", the elder man scolded.  
  
"Well...you know, I need something to do, something to sink my teeth into", Larimer explained, watching the knowing nods from his friend.  
  
"So do I. If nothing happens in a few days, I'm thinking about having a picnic and going fishing", Stone admitted.  
  
Finch's eyes widened, "YOU? Fish!?"  
  
"Hey, I've done it before, and I can do it again", the Marshall quickly retorted.  
  
"Well," Finch said, sighing, "I spose I'd join ya", he finished, using his best Western accent.  
  
They were still looking upon the paper when it began...  
  
***  
  
BANG! BANG! BANG! The shotgun's fire echoed through the stillness of the night. Finch and Stone came running from the Jailhouse to see what was going on, Finch clutching his Colt 45 and his friend holding tight to his Winchester. As they ran up to where the shots were fired from, a shadowy figured darted across the road. Larimer eased back on his trigger, the gun sounding, but not hitting its intended target.  
  
The fairly tall, stealthy figure proved the Larimer was probably right about Mike Quinn coming to Silver City. More shots from the shotgun, not hitting anyone. The streets were clear. The only light visible on the side of the road where the figure descended was coming from...oh no...Katie's house!  
  
***  
  
Amy Owen, hearing shots, went to the door, just as a tall stranger strode into her elder sister's house where they lived together. Upon seeing Amy, the figure hesitated, and then grabbed her around her waist. He sat with her on the floor near the window and broke it with the butt of his gun.  
  
"Hey out there, I've got a hostage in here! Don't shoot or she dies!" the evil man cried through the broken glass.  
  
"We won't shoot, just come out." The reply came swiftly.  
  
"Give me a minute." Mike called back.  
  
***  
  
Katie Owen had fallen asleep in her office before this all had started. As she straightened up from her sudden arousal, she stepped into her doorway, holding her Winchester. Just as she stepped onto the small porch of the Undertaker shop, her heart almost stopped.  
  
***  
  
Finch's mind was racing, who was it? Was it Katie? She could take care of herself. Or was it Amy?  
  
The hard click, click, click of steel spurs were heard across the threshold of the door. A very frightened Amy appeared, with the opening of the previously heard Shotgun pointed fiercely at her back. She glanced around with pleading eyes. Only people in sight were the Marshall, Finch, and oh no, Katie. Taking a deep gulp, she was pushed forward and Mr. Quinn came to make his demands.  
  
"I want this girl to go home with me and no one gets hurt." he said, in a loud voice.  
  
"What's your name sir?" Finch asked, his gun never moving.  
  
"I'm Michael Stephen Quinn, and I want this lady to come with me." Mike said, stepping off the porch with her.  
  
No one intervened; just let them go on their way. Then the three friends mounted up and took off after him after he was out of site.  
  
***  
  
Larimer, who was in the front, squinted slightly as he urged his horse to go on so late at night.  
  
"I do believe I see a cabin up ahead. Perh-" He was interrupted by being knocked off his horse.  
  
Lifting his Winchester from his lap, Marshall Stone quickly dismounted and ran to his friend. Katie was right behind him. Larimer was unconscious, with a bullet hole through his nice shirt.  
  
"You people," Mike called from the cabin, "leave your man here, and move on, or else I start shootin again."  
  
The two remaining did as told and rode off to town.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Larimer awoke and immediately felt sharp, burning pain. He tried to sit up, but was held back.  
  
"Careful, you've been shot." A voice, so beautiful, he had to be in a dream, responded to his movement.  
  
"A...m...y...?" He muttered, not quite entirely himself.  
  
"She's...with him. I'm Lillian Tucker." The lovely voice responded.  
  
"If he touches her I'll..." He began, opening his eyes and noticing his shoulder. He also noticed beautiful brown eyes resting worriedly upon his wound.  
  
"Are you her father?" She inquired.  
  
"Me? No, I'm just her older sister's friend." He reassured.  
  
"Good, I didn't think you looked old enough to have such a lovely woman as a daughter anyways, I just thought I'd ask." She replied quickly.  
  
He saw a bowl, probably with the bullet in it. He reached towards it, and Lillian gave him the bullet. He put it in his pocket for use later.  
  
"I...I must leave." He stammered, trying to rise.  
  
"No. You cannot. You were only spared because I wished it. If you leave you will die." Lillian said, looking down.  
  
"Hey," he began, placing a strong finger under her delicate chin, "We'll leave, I promise. You, me, Amy, we'll all leave together. And Mike will get what's coming to him."  
  
"No one has caught him, what makes you think they will?" She said, stubbornly.  
  
"I don't think, I know, and I'm going to help catch him. My friends are probably working on a way to get us out this very moment", he promised.  
  
"So, who are you and what do you do?" She asked, wanting desperately to know more about this handsome stranger.  
  
"I'm Detective Larimer Finch, call me Finch, I hate my first name", he replied.  
  
"I'll call you Larry, I don't like using people's last name and last name only", she responded.  
  
He seemed pleased, and soon, Amy was thrown into the room they were in. Larimer tried to arise and help, but Lillian pushed him down gently and ran over to her, picking up her dress as she went.  
  
"Mac...how am I?" Amy gasped.  
  
"Umm, you look pretty good all things considering. No bleeding, but you'll probably end up bruised in about a day or two", Lillian noted.  
  
"Alright. Mr. Finch? Is that you?" she asked, seeing Larimer.  
  
"Yeah, hey kid", He replied, seemingly better.  
  
***  
  
"Anyone know a sharpshooter?" Jared joked.  
  
Mayor Smith rolled his eyes, and Katie glared at the Marshall.  
  
"No, I mean it, in a sense", he tried to elaborate.  
  
"How so?" the Mayor asked, intrigued.  
  
"Well, if someone, such as myself, go up to the house, perhaps the sharpshooter will be able to pin-point his location. The sharp-shooter would wing him enough so our people could get out alive, and..." Jared started again.  
  
"IF they're alive, there's no guarantee that your plan would work", Katie butted in.  
  
"AND we would bring him back here for justice to be served", Jared continued, almost ignoring the interruption.  
  
"That's the best thing I've heard yet", Smith admitted.  
  
"What if they're already dead, and he gets killed too?" Katie argued.  
  
"Then you'll find another plan", Jared replied.  
  
"Have you no worry or care for your own life?" Katie asked, shocked by his casual response.  
  
"Katie, someone has to try at least", Jared replied, sighing. "I'm gonna go get Billy Mayes. He's the best Sharpshooter in town. Then me and him are gonna go up there."  
  
As Jared left, Katie tried to chase after him, but Smith held her back.  
  
"It could be their only hope", he said, keeping her from chasing the Marshall.  
  
"But...I know. I just don't want to bury him", she said, slipping from his grasp and going to her office.  
  
***  
  
After tossing Amy in, Mike hit the bottle again. He gulped the foul liquid quickly. Soon, he heard a shout outside his door.  
  
"Mr. Quinn, are you there?" the stranger called.  
  
"I...I'm here. What...Wha...what do you want?" he replied, grabbing his shotgun as he swayed.  
  
He looked for the stranger and had to get closer to the previously broken window to even see him.  
  
BANG! He was down. Mike moaned as his blood trickled on the floor. Jared ran inside the house, grateful his plan worked.  
  
"Finch! Amy!" He called, stepping over the drunken Mike.  
  
"In here, sir." Lillian replied.  
  
***  
  
Jared opened a locked door and saw a woman bent over Mr. Finch, who was on the bed, and Amy was propped up on a wall.  
  
"Ms. Amy, Finch, Ms..." Jared greeted.  
  
"Lillian Tucker." Mac finished. "Please, call me Mac."  
  
"Alright, well, let's get you out of here." He said, helping Amy up.  
  
Mac nodded and promptly helped Finch up off the bed. His arm hung loosely in the sling. They stepped across the threshold and climbed aboard the buckboard that was hidden previously. As Jared went back inside the house, Mike was gone.  
  
***  
  
Soon, they arrived in town and Jared went to the telegraph office. The three rescued people went to the doc's office and were followed by a very worried Katie.  
  
Everyone would be fine, but they all had to stay for overnight observation. Mac was fair, and had come from Reno, where Mike was from. Apparently, they had grown up together, and she disliked him, but he wanted her for his own, so he ran off with her. Finch was going to be just fine as well, his arm would heal in a few weeks because of the wonderful job Mac had done. And Amy, she'd be just fine, just a few bruises that would fade overtime. But all of them would be mentally disturbed by what they had seen and experienced.  
  
***  
  
The next day, the Marshall went out of town, to Reno, and left Finch in charge. Larry stood upon Jared's porch to his office. He sighed as he breathed in the morning air. In the faint distance, happy giggles could be heard emerging from the lady's clothing store. Lillian came out with a few items, and in a new outfit. She promptly turned on her heal and headed towards Larimer.  
  
"Well Larry, what do you think?" She asked, spinning around after setting the boxes down upon the wooden planks.  
  
"You look marvelous, you always have", he replied, stopping her for a kiss.  
  
The kissed passionately and were peaceful in each others arms.  
  
"I need to get my things to my room. I'll be back, Detective", Mac said, winking.  
  
She picked up her bags and such, and went on her way. Larimer looked out upon the morning and sighed again, oh what a wonderful start to a bright and hopefully fulfilling day.  
  
***  
  
As Lillian was coming back from her room, she heard a murmur from an open doorway. Curiously, she stepped upon the threshold as the door slammed behind her.  
  
"Hello my sweet. Quite a display out there with the one-armed man", the familiar voice said evilly.  
  
"Back off Quinn. Marshall's gonna see you punished", Mac said, trying not to let her freight show.  
  
Mike got closer to her and rubbed his rough hands through her silky hair.  
  
"Oh? Is that so? I'd personally like to see the one-armed man come after me; that would be a show to sell tickets at", Mike said, getting near her.  
  
"I don't have to stand for this nonsense", Mac said, turning away from him to leave, and finding the door locked.  
  
"You won't get out that way, Mackie," Mike smirked, "You won't get away from me ever again."  
  
She kneed him and went to the window. As he rolled in pain, he laughed, for they were two stories above ground. She tried without success to open the window, and eventually threw a chair through it. Ducking around the open glass, she flung herself away from her tormentor.  
  
***  
  
As Larimer looked at the hotel, awaiting Mac's return, he saw someone jump from a two-story window. They landed on a well-placed hay stack that was a waiting time for it to be moved. Larry ran over to the person and saw it was Lillian.  
  
"Mike...second story...that window..." She managed to mutter upon seeing his face.  
  
Her actions where clear about their motives; Larimer stormed upstairs with his Colt in his hand. He cocked it and shot the door open, promptly cocking it again upon entry. Mike struggled to stand.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the one-armed man, come to take me in", Mike said jokingly.  
  
"You bet", Larry said, shoving his gun into Mike's back.  
  
They went to the jail with everyone watching. Upon arrival, Billy Mayes locked Mike up and let Larry go back to Lillian, whom the Doc was tending too.  
  
A crowd had gathered around and they were all looking upon the scene with awe and wonder.  
  
"Doc, how is she?" Larry said, his face lined with worry and fret.  
  
"I think that the hay broke her fall. She should come too any minute now. But, her tibia is fractured. She will need it wrapped and some crutches. I'll have some of the men take her to my place", Doc said, looking up.  
  
"Alright, I shall accompany you", Larry said.  
  
The journey was relatively short. Lillian was quickly wrapped up and given crutches. She had come too and was happy to hear that Mike was finally in jail. 


End file.
